


Bad Mood, My Dear?

by shewasagaystripper



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is cranky, Freddie and Roger think they know what to do with that, M/M, relationship: established, shfdhsfhsfhsfhsf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasagaystripper/pseuds/shewasagaystripper
Summary: The band wants to find out why Brian is in the worst mood ever





	Bad Mood, My Dear?

Being awoken by the intruding sound of the telephone wasn’t exactly John’s favourite thing in the world. So when the first buzz of the phone reached his ears for the first time in the early morning, his first instinct was to bury his face in Brian’s nightshirt, as if to attempt to make the noise disappear into the soft fabric of his cotton shirt. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, this soon turned out not to work, for the phone kept disturbing him from his drowsy state of sleeping, and he sighed softly.

‘Brian?’ John called as he reached out to shake the other man’s shoulder, and his boyfriend frowned shortly at the unpleasant situation of being roughly woken up from his sleep by the touch of John’s hand on his shoulder and the noise of the telephone in his ears. He surely wasn’t a fan of being awoken all at once, given that this was quite a deterioration of luxury when you were used to being patiently brought into consciousness with a kiss on your forehead and a hot cup of tea placed on your nightstand by your boyfriend. But unfortunately for Brian, there was no time for their usual morning routine now that someone was trying to reach out for them.

‘Mmmh… what time is it?’ Brian mumbled, obviously still too overcome with sleepiness to really get past that slumbering stage of aftersleep. He didn’t even bother trying to open his eyes, let alone making any movements that could have suggested that he was going to stand up and pick up the phone anywhere soon.

‘Half past eight,’ John answered when having glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand, after which they both shared a sigh. Half past eight wasn’t even that early in the morning, not to say that they would usually have been in the studio for at least an hour already. But this Sunday, the first day off they had had since a month, wasn’t supposed to start as early as this, especially not since they had celebrated this rare luxury thoroughly the night before by staying up late.

‘Can you go get it, John? Please?’ Brian asked, and John could hear in his voice, that was still raspy from sleeping all night, that he wasn’t in for a discussion – not with him and surely not to the person on the other side of the telephone line. He listened closely to hear if Freddie and Roger were on their way to the living room to pick up the utterly annoying device, but when he heard the sudden sound of water clattering down on the bathroom tiles in combination with muffled giggles instead of hurried footsteps, he sighed. Whenever the phone rang early in the morning, none of the four residents of the small London apartment was particularly excited to jump out of bed and rush over to the living room to pick it up and greet whoever was calling them at that point in time. That was why everybody quickly started to look for excuses not to have to go. This morning wasn’t any different – Brian was pretending to have fallen asleep again, and John could tell by both experience and by their quiet giggles that Freddie and Roger were only _pretending_ to be showering; in reality, they were probably just both standing next to the streaming water, waiting for someone else to pick up the phone. Three of them had marked themselves as ‘unavailable’ towards the caller, which meant that John was once again victimised to go get the phone that was still ringing through their apartment.

‘Fine, I’ll go,’ John gave in as he threw the duvet aside and stood up from the bed, catching a glimpse of how Brian shortly smiled to himself in satisfaction, snuggling closer into his pillow. He was clearly satisfied with this victory, but John didn’t let him get away with it that easily. ‘You know the rules, Bri – you make us breakfast!’

‘Hmm-hmm,’ Brian hummed in agreement as he turned around again, not looking like he was going to come out of bed anywhere soon.  John had developed a devilish little trick to force him to do so anyway, though. With a cheeky grin plastered across his face, he gripped the duvet Brian was hiding under, and pulled it completely off his body in one quick movement, making Brian gasp at the sudden cold against his uncovered arms and legs.

‘John, you little-’ Brian whined as he propped himself up on his arms, but John just chuckled.

‘Two sugar cubes in my tea, please!’ he chanted as he walked out of the door, hurrying over to the living room where the pone was still ringing loudly every so many seconds. The person who called them sure was insistent, John thought to himself, as he picked up the phone and placed the receiver against his ear.

He aimed to start the conversation with his usual words, which were _‘John speaking,’_ but just as he was about to say the second word, he tried - and failed – to oppress a long-kept yawn, and therefore ended up interspersing the two words. He hoped dimly that the person on the other side hadn’t heard the rather inappropriate sound, but it turned out that she had.

‘Hello there John, this is Ruth speaking! I’m sorry, did I wake you up?’ he heard a woman’s voice saying, and he instantly forgot about the rather awkward incident and the rather outrageously early time she called.

‘Good morning, Mrs. May,’ he greeted his boyfriend’s mother with a smile on his face. Brian’s mother  was one of the warmest, kind-hearted persons he had ever had the honour to meet, and he sincerely enjoyed talking to her, even if it was at half past seven. ‘No, don’t worry, we had just woken up when you called,’ he lied, not wanting to make her feel bad about her timing.

‘I can hear that – you sound tired! Have you slept well?’ she informed, and John smiled softly to himself. It was so typical for Brian’s mother to ask him these kind of questions; she was always so attentive, caring, and protective of her only son and his boyfriend. Her protectiveness sometimes bothered Brian, who didn’t really appreciate maternal interference now that he had moved out of his parents’ house years ago, but John didn’t mind it at all to have someone who was concerned about how they were doing; someone who sort of looked after them.

‘Perfectly fine, Mrs. May, thank you,’ John answered, and the very moment the words left his lips, he knew it had been too formal to call her that; her reaction confirmed these suspicions.

‘John, I’ve told you a hundred times before that you can just call me Ruth,’ the woman corrected him kindly, and John blushed slightly.

‘I’m sorry, just trying to be polite,’ the bassist apologised with a shrug, to which Ruth laughed softly.

‘I know, but there’s no need for. You’re perfectly polite without calling me by my last name,’ she told him, like she always did; she seemed very appreciative of his manners, to the point where she even told her own son that she wished he was as polite as his boyfriend. It usually made John blush in awkwardness when she said such things to Brian, given that he wasn’t very keen on being complimented like that - especially when it was at the expense of somebody else - but he knew that she meant it well.

'I’ll try to remember it next time,’ he promised, which seemed to satisfy her.

'Thank you, John. But I wasn’t calling you to discipline you - I actually wanted to ask you if Brian and you had time to come over for tea today. I haven’t seen the two of you in ages!’

John chuckled to himself - they had actually visited Brian’s parents a mere two weeks ago, but to Ruth, who always missed her only son terribly now that he had moved out, a fortnight seemed like _eternity_. Even John had to admit that it was about time to visit his parents-in-law again. In the busy life they led, he craved the stability and sincere kindness and open-heartedness that Brian’s parents offered them, and he sincerely adored going over to their house with his boyfriend to enjoy a peaceful day with the couple.

'That sounds lovely, Ruth,’ he therefore agreed. 'We have a day off today, but I’m just gonna have to ask Brian what he thinks about it.’

'Of course. Is my son somewhere near?’ she asked curiously.

'Yes, he’s in the bedroom. Hold on, I’ll call him,’ John said, after which he blocked the receiver with his hand and turned around towards the opened door of the hallway. The door of their bedroom hadn’t been opened, which indicated that his lover probably hadn’t walked over to the kitchen yet, not to say that he probably hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet.

'Brian?’ he called the guitarist’s name, but as expected, he wasn’t given a reply. 'Brian, your mother’s on the phone!’ John added in a shout that he hoped was loud enough to get his boyfriend out of bed, even though he highly doubted it. Given that it usually took minutes of waking him up, which always started off with carefully shaking his shoulder and sweetly asking him to stand up, and eventually inevitably ended in tugging at his arm and simply dragging him away from his place on the mattress, he hardly dared to even _hope_ that yelling his name would make him jump into action.

'Is he still in bed?’ Ruth guessed, which indeed was the case.

'Yes, he is. He lured me into picking up the phone by promising that he was going to make breakfast, but so far, he hasn’t moved yet,’ John half-snickered, half-sighed, and Ruth seemed to share this mixed feeling of secret affection and at the same time slight frustration towards Brian’s inability to wake- and get up quickly in the morning.

'Oh, it’s always the same with my boy…’ Ruth sighed, clicking her tongue in disapproval. 'As you know, Harold and I literally had to drag him out of bed each morning to make sure he would be at school on time,’ she told him, which was indeed a story that John had been told a few times before, much to his lover’s dismay.

'Nothing has changed, in that case,’ John informed her. 'It still takes a lot of persistence, patience and a warm cup of tea to wake him up, let alone to get him out of bed and in the studio on time.’

'Do you bring him tea every morning?’ Ruth asked, and John could nearly envision the way she would frown her eyebrows along with this question.

'Well, yes. I guess he just really isn’t a morning person in general, so it’s some kind of unspoken rule - I get out of bed first to set the table, make breakfast, and bring him tea in bed.’

'John, you’re being too good for him!’ Ruth cried, to which John could do nothing but chuckle a little uneasily. Brian didn’t have any siblings and his parents had therefore always been very careful not to spoil him, so John’s policy of bringing him breakfast in bed on a daily base did not correspond with their ways of treating their son. 'You’re not his maid, dear - you don’t have to do all that for him!’

'I know, but it’s fine. I don’t mind getting up a little earlier so he can have some more time to wake up,’ John responded, not just to be nice, but because he seriously felt that way. Brian just really didn’t enjoy getting up early, whilst he never had a problem waking up somewhere around six o'clock, so why not prepare breakfast and let your partner sleep in a little longer?

'I do hope he realises how lucky he is to have you,’ Ruth said, to which John blushed once again. Fortunately, she soon after added another sentence, so he wasn’t the one to be forced to come up with a reply. ‘When I talk to him, I’ll tell him that it’s about time that he returns the favour,’ Brian’s mother announced determinedly, to which John smiled.

'Oh no, there won’t be need for that,’ John assured. 'I’m perfectly happy about the way it is now.’

‘Okay, but if you are getting tired of my son’s laziness, don’t hesitate to tell me, and then we’ll see if my maternal authority still manages to leave an impression on Brian,’ Ruth offered, to which both of them laughed.

'I will, but I think I’ll manage. Apart from this, he’s pretty much perfect,’ John smiled, and once again, he was serious about his statement. He seriously adored every aspect about his boyfriend - his soft-spokenness, his often completely ridiculous fashion choices that somehow still looked good on him, his musical creativity, his I-just-got-out-of-bed-curls that looked even messier than usual, the way he could be completely absorbed in any topic concerning either astrophysics or guitar playing, and John even thought his morning tiredness was cute. He could continue to add little details about his partner to his imaginary list, but he was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a door being opened and closed.

‘Oh, there he is,’ John smiled as he turned around to look at what he expected to be was Brian, and it was him indeed. He was standing in the opening of the door and he even seemed to have gotten dressed – to be more specifically, he had slipped on a pair of velvet trousers and thrown a shirt around his shoulders, leaving his flat chest exposed, something John certainly did not mind to see. To be honest, he never got tired of seeing Brian, but at the moment, Brian seemed to be thinking different about seeing him. The older man was not exactly reciprocating the smile John offered him –  instead, his facial expression seemed rather dark, _angry_ even, and John had no idea why.

‘Bri, dear, it’s your mother,’ John whispered at him, hoping that was what he was looking for to hear, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

‘Her again?’ Brian sighed in frustration as he paced towards him, and as he was standing next to him, John could practically feel the tension hanging in the atmosphere around him. 'Were you two gossiping about me or something?’ Brian informed sternly, and he did not at all sound amused by the discovery of John talking to his mother.

'Gossiping?’ John repeated in surprise as he removed the telephone from  its place against his ear. 'Your mother just asked where you were, so I told her you were still in bed-’

'So you _were_ gossiping,’ Brian growled, crossing his arms over his chest.

'Darling, of course not!’ John answered, kind of taken aback that Brian accused him of talking about him behind his back. 'Would I ever do that?’

Brian looked as if he was going to complain against that answer, but then thought better of it, probably because he knew it wasn’t anything like John to go around talking about him. He decided to ignore the question and throw in a demand instead. 'Whatever, John. Just give me the phone and leave,’ he sighed, reaching his hand out for John to give him the device.

John, on the other hand, had no intention to obey to this rather fed up sounding request, or at least, not without having been given an explanation. Because having to leave, _that_ was something new. Brian had never sent him out of the room when someone phoned for him, and especially not when it were just his parents. So why would Brian suddenly react to him like this now?

'Why do I have to leave? Since when can’t I be in the room when you phone your mother?’ John asked calmly, but the question wasn’t much appreciated by the older man.

'Since now. Be good and listen to me,’ Brian told him, as if he was talking to an annoying toddler who was standing in his way instead of to his partner. Brian really seemed to look at him that way at the moment, John realised, once Brian simply reached out to snatch the telephone away from him.

'What- what are you doing?’ John asked, unable to grab the phone back when Brian turned the other way in his moment of misunderstanding. It wasn’t even because he wanted to overhear the conversation between mother and son, because naturally, he respected Brian’s privacy. But he had never asked him before to leave the room when he was on the phone with his parents, let alone that he had been so insistent about it that he had simply pushed him aside and stole the phone away from him before turning his back on him. John was confused and wanted nothing more than just knowing why his lover was suddenly so curt and secretive towards him.

'But Brian…!’ John complained, only to be cut off by him.

'John, I’m really not in for this discussion right now, okay?!’ Brian hissed at him as he turned around to face him, his eyes dark with something John didn’t get to see too often. Was it anger? Frustration? Contempt? He couldn’t tell, but either way, Brian looked at him so dangerously that it involuntarily made him take a step back. 'You heard me. Go to the bedroom, the kitchen, I don’t care, but get away from here and close the door behind you. Understood?’

'What… what did I do wrong? You asked if _I_ could go get the phone, why are you mad at me now?’ John asked quietly, which only seemed to irritate him even more.

'Goodness, why are you so… Nothing, okay?’ Brian sighed in frustration. 'Just do as I told you and _leave_ ,’ he ordered again, but when John just stared at him in disbelief, too perplexed to move, the guitarist growled and put the receiver down on the table with a lot more power than necessary. Just as John wanted to ask him what he was up to, he felt Brian’s fingers closing tightly around his arm. He could hear the voice of Ruth through the telephone, but he couldn’t distinguish what she was saying; she probably wondered what was going on, and John couldn’t blame her, since he was wondering the exact same thing.

'Brian!’ John shrieked as the older man tugged him away from the place he had been standing before, and dragged him towards the door that lead to the hallway.

'I warned you,’ Brian said, but this curt response sounded closer to a threatening  than to an explanation in combination with the act of tightening his grip around John’s upper arm when the latter tried to free himself from Brian’s relentless hold. 'I warned you multiple times, and you didn’t listen, so it seems more than fair to me that I have a right to make you leave if you don’t do so on your own after having been asked four times.’ His voice had raised to an unhealthy extend by the end of the sentence, and so had the grip around John’s arm.

'Brian, you’re hurting me!’ John squeaked, but Brian really did not seem to care.

‘Maybe that’ll teach you to listen to me next time,’ Brian growled, still pulling his struggling boyfriend along with him. John wanted to shout, wanted to lash out at him, wanted to tear himself away from Brian, but previous attempts had only resulted in a tighter grip around his upper arm. And to be really honest, he didn’t dare to provoke Brian into doing things that were worse than just dragging him along by his arm. Brian had never shown any signs of violence before, and John had never been given a reason to be afraid of him until this very moment. But right now, with Brian pulling him along with him while his arm was held so tight that John was almost positive it was going to draw bruises, he had to admit that he _was_ afraid of him.

Fortunately, only a split second after realising that he was scared of his boyfriend, he was pulled over the treshold of the living room, and when he was standing in the hallway, he was let go of all of a sudden, making him have to grip onto the doorframe to prevent himself from stumbling to the ground. When he was sure he had managed to maintain his balance, his right arm immediately reached out to clutch at his sore left one, and he stared at Brian in total shock and disbelief.

‘You’re staying _here_ , do you understand me? And don’t you dare to bother me,’ Brian barked at him, not even awaiting an answer before tuning on his heel and shutting the door shut behind him, leaving his perplexed boyfriend behind on the treshold of the living room.

John was shocked; never before had Brian shouted at him, never before had he touched him, never before had he expressed any feelings of entitlement to lay his hands on him if he didn’t obey him.

The only thing he did know was that Brian’s words and behaviour sure had made an impression on him, because he didn’t even consider going back into the living room to ask him what the hell was wrong with him. Therefore, besides standing in the draughty corridor with his heart still pounding in his chest, the only other – and hopefully better – option was to join Freddie and Roger having breakfast in the kitchen to distract himself a little from Brian’s whims.

John decided to literally leave all thoughts that included Brian at the door as he opened the door to the kitchen. When he entered the room, Freddie and Roger were already sitting at the table, their dry and unwashed hair the last piece of evidence John needed to confirm that they indeed hadn’t been showering, but only pretended to be doing so so that they didn’t have to pick up the phone. _Whatever all this was,_ John thought to himself, _it probably hadn’t happened if these two would have just answered the damned telephone._

But of course, he knew he couldn’t blame them for Brian’s inexplicable behaviour, and the last traces of angriness towards the couple disappeared when the he looked at them for a little longer. Freddie, leaning back on his chair with and effortless elegance, still managed to look like a fashion model with his night robe and his uncombed hair. Roger, who was sitting on his knees on his chair to reach out for the jar of muesli at the middle of the table, looked simply _adorable_ in his short-sleeved Star Wars pyjamas. Unfortunately, Freddie didn’t think the action he was trying to carry out was cute at all, and therefore put him to a halt.

'Roger, please,’ Freddie reproved him with a sigh. 'Hands off, you’ve had enough muesli,’ John heard the older man say while picking up the jar and placing it out Roger’s reach. It resulted in a sulky expression from Roger, which then was reciprocated with a stroke over his blond hair that looked even messier than usual now that he hadn’t dragged a comb through it yet, and John sighed at just how cute Freddie handled Roger, especially in comparison to his own encounter with his boyfriend.

Freddie was the first to notice John when he turned his head towards the door. 'Good morning, dear,’ he greeted warmly, gesturing for him to come in.

'Hello,’ John answered a little stiffly as he took a step into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Roger as well. He tried not to listen to his boyfriend’s angry voice that he could still hear coming from the living room, and instead focussed on his friends. ‘Had a good night?’

'Pretty well, thank you. But I do have to admit that it was quite a shock to find an empty kitchen table at half past eight,’ Freddie said with his hand in front of his mouth to avoid the pieces of muesli from flying around.

'Sorry,’ John apologised, awkwardly scratching at his scalp. 'I had to pick up the phone.’

'Oh, there’s no need to be sorry – we’re awfully spoiled to just assume that you’re making us breakfast all the time,’ Freddie snickered. ‘But you know how disastrous we are at cooking, so I decided that it was better not to do so.’

‘And that’s why you’re eating plain yoghurt and cereals? As a safety measure?’ John assumed as he pulled out a chair at the opposite side of the table when Freddie gestured for him to sit down.

 _'Sour_ yoghurt, on top of that,’ Roger complained. But when John and Freddie looked up at their drummer, expecting to see him prodding a spoon into the bowl in front of him, he wasn’t – instead, he had somehow managed to get a hold on the pot of muesli that Freddie had tried to shift away from him, and he was now mindlessly feeling at the small cereal chunks inside of it with his fingers.

'Darling, I told you to stop doing that!’ Freddie cried out, though he didn’t sound seriously angry - they all knew he adored Roger’s playfulness, including all the actions that originated from it.

Roger looked up with well-played innocence, as if he had no idea what he was doing wrong, though it was visible in the sparkles in his eyes that he knew so much better than that. 'Stop doing what?’

'Eating cereals from the jar,’ Freddie pointed at the pot that Roger had confiscated in the few seconds that he hadn’t paid attention to him. 'With your hands, on top of that!’

'I’m not eating the cereals, I’m only selecting the chocolate pieces,’ Roger corrected him without even looking up from his occupation, as if it was the most common thing in the world to stick your fingers down a jar of cereals and handpick - _literally_ \- only the best ingredients.

'Roger, please!’ Freddie sighed. 'That’s even worse. There are other people who would also like some chocolate in their muesli, not to even mention that it isn’t very hygienic to touch food without having washed your hands first.’

A cheeky smile spread across Roger’s face at that remark. 'I washed my hands last night before we went to bed. Are you claiming that I touched anything that might have made them dirty afterwards?’

'Oh hush, you,’ Freddie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t oppress the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He tried to make up for his incapability of standing up against Roger’s act of insolence by using his spoon to give a soft tap against his fingers, just when the drummer’s hand was about to disappear into the transparent glass jar again.

‘Freddie!’ Roger whined overly indignantly at the small touch that was hardly worth being called ‘a corrective action’ as he withdrew his hand from the jar of muesli. ‘Look what you’ve done to me!’ he cried as he stretched his fingers and showed them to his boyfriend. Even though John was sitting a few feet away, he was sure that there was nothing visible of the soft, corrective, but most of all carefully brought flick against his fore- and middle finger. The naughty wink that Roger flashed him when he hoped Freddie wasn’t looking, confirmed that it was nothing more but a show.

‘Oh, I see. You’ve absolutely been mutilated, you poor thing,’ Freddie chucked, not resisting the tendency to roll his eyes. ‘Look at all those bruises and scars! Do you need a kiss on them?’ he asked.

‘I do,’ Roger pouted, obviously enjoying himself a lot when Freddie picked up his hand with a perfect gentleness and pressed a feather-light kiss on each of his fingers.

‘Better?’ the frontman informed him quasi-seriously, to which Roger nodded hesitantly, thoughtfully, which usually meant that he was onto something.

‘A little. If you _really_ want to make up with me, you’d give me all the chocolate pieces in your muesli.’

‘Oh, don’t push your luck, you little fortune hunter!’ Freddie smiled broadly as he threw an arm around Roger’s shoulders as to clench him into a careful headlock, using the other hand to grate his knuckles over his messy blond hair. Roger shrieked at the unexpected movement, but John could tell by his smile that he enjoyed the nearly loving reprimand he was getting from Freddie, especially when Freddie kissed his temple just before he broke apart from him.

‘Well, let me see if I have some chocolate chunks for you,’ Freddie announced as he fished the desired pieces out of his bowl of muesli with his spoon, and Roger looked at him in childlike anticipation. ‘Open your mouth, dear,’ Freddie chanted as he wanted to bring the spoon closer to Roger’s face, but when the younger man turned out to be thinking the exact same thing and wanted to dive down to swallow the food on spoon in front of him, the whole scene turned into a badly coordinated collision of Roger’s chin and Freddie’s cutlery. They were both silent for a moment, watching as the yoghurt dripped off Roger’s chin and onto the red checked tablecloth, after which they burst out into a helpless laughter. John tried his best to smile for a bit, but with Brian’s recent actions still fresh in his mind, he didn’t really succeed in this. The fact that he could hear his boyfriend’s voice growing louder from the living room, did not soothe his nerves either.

‘Goodness me, what are you greedy this morning!’ Freddie chuckled when he had gained control over his laughing again. ‘I wish you were this eager in other situations,’ he winked at his boyfriend, who blushed slightly while trying to cut back another giggle. It was as if they only then that they remembered their bassist sitting across from them at the table.

‘Lord, I _am_ sorry you have to witness our silliness this early in the morning, Deaky,’ Freddie apologised while cleaning Roger’s chin with a dishcloth, to which John smiled faintly.

‘That’s okay,’ he answered stiffly, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sting of jealousy that had flowed through his veins ever since he had walked in on the couple and their silly but cute actions. To look at them reacting so well to each other, fitting each other’s needs perfectly well, was rather bitter after literally having been dragged out of the living room by his own boyfriend, and Freddie seemed to feel his restraint and dejection.

‘John, I don’t want to interfere with anything, but would you mind telling us what was wrong with Brian this morning?’ he asked as stood up from the table to reach for a third bowl, in which he poured a generous amount of yoghurt.

‘Well, I’d gladly tell you, but I have no idea either,’ John mumbled.

‘You don’t? There must have been a reason for him suddenly shouting at you like that,’ Freddie said, and John sighed. So Roger and Freddie had heard Brian’s sudden outburst of anger _as well._ Very nice. Regarding Brian’s loudness, it wasn’t surprising him, but it just wasn’t exactly what he needed at the moment now that he was trying to let go of the whole situation.

‘Probably,’ John shrugged. ‘But I don’t know what this exact reason was, since he didn’t care to tell me,’ he tried to say as carelessly as possible, but he immediately realised that he sounded like he was on the edge of tears, and that this detail wasn’t going to elude the always observant and vigilant Freddie and his nearly childishly inquisitive boyfriend.

‘Poor thing, I can tell that it upsets you,’ Freddie said, and with this confirming John’s suspicions about his attentiveness. ‘Do you want to tell us what happened? To get it off your chest?’

‘I do, but it’s just… It was so strange. I’ve never seen him like this before. This… unpredictable,’ John said as he accepted the scanty breakfast Freddie placed in front of him, after which the bassist shared the story of what had happened between the two of them from his point of view. Freddie and Roger didn’t interrupt him while he was talking about how John had gotten out of bed to pick up the phone and had a talk with Brian’s mother, but they couldn’t help starting to comment wordlessly by frowning when John told him about the moment Brian walked up to him and demanded him to give him the phone, and Freddie raised an indignant when John recited the particularly rude and suspicious things Brian had said to him. Only when John continued to inform them that Brian had grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room when he didn’t leave on his own account, they couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

'He did _what_?!’ Roger asked with a solid emphasis on the last word, the shock and disdain towards Brian that lightened up his blue eyes so intense that it made John withdraw a little.

'Well, it’s- it’s not that bad. He probably didn’t… didn’t mean it like that,’ John stammered, not having expected that they would react to it so strongly. Of course, he had expected them to agree that being violent was nothing like Brian, but not that they wanted to go after him and call him out for his behaviour right away.

‘Still, it’s unacceptable. I’ll have a word with him,’ Freddie said, the legs of the chair scratching over the kitchen floor as he went to stand up, but he was prevented from doing so by John.

'No, please, don’t do that! Not now that he’s as touchy as right now,’ John answered, reaching out his arm towards Freddie as a sign that he shouldn’t go after him, which he soon regretted as the short sleeve of his t-shirt slid back to reveal the red finger marks that Brian’s iron hand had left behind on his upper arm.

'Deaky, what’s this?’ Roger asked him quietly as he carefully grasped his arm between his fingers, which formed quite a contrast with the way Brian had gripped his arm earlier that morning.

'Eh, it’s probably nothing,’ John tried, but with his incapability of lying and with two pair of eyes on him, he didn’t manage to hide the truth behind the swollen skin for longer than five awfully silent seconds in which no one spoke and everyone just seemed to look at him intently. ‘I think it was Brian… But maybe it was something else,’ he quickly tried as he saw Freddie’s gaze growing dark. ‘You know how clumsy I am, maybe I walked into a… door, or something, and simply forgot,’ John offered as an excuse, though he knew right away that the others weren’t buying it.

‘You’re not that clumsy and _certainly_ not that forgetful, dear,’ Freddie replied, and John sighed.

‘Please, I’ll just talk to him tonight, when he’s calmed down again,’ the younger man suggested rather desperately, afraid that Freddie and Roger were only going to make matters worse for him.

'Deaky, it’s absolutely not acceptable that he lays his hands on you, and especially not when _he’s_ the one who’s being unreasonable,’ Freddie informed him sternly.

After a few more arguments and suggestions on how to handle the situation having been thrown back and forth between the couple and  John, it turned out that there was no need for either Roger or Freddie to strode over to the living room and tell Brian the truth. The door swung open to reveal their tired, frustrated and most of all aggravated looking guitarist, just the displeased look on his face making John want to shrink back in his chair and just mindlessly, without being seen, slipping beneath the table to escape his boyfriend in his state of anger about something neither John nor anyone else seemed to grasp.

Unfortunately for him, the others were not planning on staying quiet and escape the confrontation with their guitarist, and even made a point of standing up and – in Roger’s case – even indignantly crossing his arms over his chest to display his dissatisfaction.

‘So, and what’s wrong with you this morning?’ Roger interrogated the newcomer right away before Brian could even say something to them.

‘Nothing,’ Brian answered, just a little too quickly to come across unbothered.

‘Nothing? You always consider it to be fine to treat your boyfriend the way you just did?’ Freddie asked, and John had never wanted to disappear into nothingness as badly as he wanted the moment Brian turned his head to look at him, to _glare_ at him, rather.

‘My boyfriend? You mean that _traitor_ over there that can’t keep his mouth shut for once in his lifetime?’ Brian snapped, and John felt as if all the remaining colour on his face way drained out of it when Brian accused him of gossiping, talking behind his back, _betraying_ him even for the second time that day. He had never meant to make Brian feel uncomfortable by telling anyone what happened; he had never meant to upset or aggravate him in any way. The only reason he had informed them because he hoped they could help him coming up with an explanation for Brian’s strange hostility; his three best friends getting in an argument about this incident was the _last_ thing he had aimed for.

‘Brian, I never meant to…’ John whispered so softly that he wondered if Freddie interrupted him or simply hadn’t heard him talking.

‘I, for one, am rather glad that he told us about this,’ Freddie answered. ‘Because if dragging him out of the room by his arm so tightly that it leaves marks when he doesn’t listen to you quickly enough, what would you do to him if you got into a real argument?’

‘Did you tell him that also?’ Brian spat out to his partner, who was so taken aback by now that he hardly managed to speak a coherent word at all. Luckily, it was Freddie who directed Brian’s attention away from John and back to him.

‘I asked you something,’ Freddie reminded him sternly. ‘If this was already a reason for you to lay your hands on John-’

‘Mercury, I’m not in for this conversation right now,’ Brian interrupted him as he buttoned up his still completely opened shirt, which sounded rather familiar to John – he had said the exact same to him earlier that morning, and it sounded just as angered and irritated this time.

‘I don’t care! How can we know for sure that you don’t get physical with him more often?’ the frontman brought in, much to everyone’s surprise.

Silence fell into the room when Freddie shared his suspicions with the rest of them, and John swallowed painfully. Brian had been treating him too roughly just this once; accusing him of violence was premature and unjustified, and he could see by the way he bit down his bottom lip that also Brian needed a second to process the reproach. Still, he managed to regain his hostile attitude amazingly fast, which did not really help him convince Freddie that he would never hurt John.

‘Are you accusing me of something?’ Brian asked as he stepped closer to their frontman, who didn’t even blink an eye when the guitarist towered over him.

‘I wasn’t necessarily, but _you’re_ the one that’s behaving rather suspiciously,’ Freddie answered remarkably calmly.

‘Freddie, please, there’s no need for all this,’ John tried in a last attempt to put a halt to the escalating argument, and it turned out that Brian was thinking the same.

‘You know what? I don’t have time for this,’ Brian said as he stepped away from him, opening the door towards the corridor again. ‘My parents asked me to come over, so I’m off to their house.’

‘Alright, I’ll get my shoes,’ John blurted out as he stood up from his chair and reached out for the pair of sneakers standing next to the table. He didn’t know why he was so eager to join Brian and leave for his parent’s house; probably because he hoped they would be able to make up if they were all by themselves again, without Freddie and Roger around. Being afraid that Brian would be even angrier at him if he was to stay behind with the couple who had accused him of domestic violence, played a pretty big role in wanting to distance himself from this house and these people as well.

‘What are you doing? You’re not coming with me,’ Brian suddenly said, making John look up at him.

‘What- what do you mean?’ John stammered in response. Maybe he should have expected a negative reaction from his partner to his idea of going together, but since he was hoping to be able to make up with Brian during a family visit, he wasn’t really prepared for this reply.

‘My parents wanted _me_ to come over, _not_ you,’ Brian informed him bittersweetly, which managed to silence John for a moment – maybe it was the triumphant and arrogance in his voice, or maybe it was the fact that he knew for sure Brian was lying when he said that.

‘That’s not true, Bri,’ John managed quietly after a few seconds. ‘I spoke to your mother, too. She wanted us to come over together,’ he said, hoping Brian didn’t notice the teardrops of rejection in the corners of his eyes as he looked at him.

‘Whatever, John. I’m going alone and you’re staying here,’ Brian said as he threw a coat over his shoulders, turning away from John, and the bassist had to oppress the uprising urge to scream. Why was Brian like this today? What on _earth_ had he ever done to him to deserve to be treated like this?

Luckily, it was Roger who spoke up for him, because John was afraid he was going to cry if he had to do so. ‘What’s _wrong_ with you today?!’ Roger yelled at the insufferable guitarist, following him along the hallway when he pretended not to mind them any longer and simply walked towards the direction of the door.

‘There’s nothing wrong! Not with _me_ , at least!’ Brian shouted angrily. Though John was still paralysed and therefore hadn’t followed him to the corridor like the other couple had, he could feel the cold November air filling the room, and he realised that Brian was really making true on his promise of leaving – not to say that he had probably stepped outside the apartment already.

‘Don’t you dare to leave-’ Freddie tried to order, but the last word of his sentence was hardly audible due the noise that slamming the door shut caused, and which then managed to momentarily silence all of them. By the time the bowls on the kitchen table and the spoons in the empty teacups had stopped clattering and John’s heart rate had gone down a little again, Roger was first to speak up.

‘Honestly, Deaky, I don’t know what’s the matter with him, but it sure as hell isn’t your fault.’

‘I don’t know either,’ John agreed with tears in his eyes. The second part of the sentence was something he could not confirm, and that was worst of all – Brian hadn’t told him his reason for behaving this way, so John couldn’t rule out that it was the result of something he had said or done, and this was freaking him out. Brian being mean or unreasonable to him was undesirable, Brian dragging him around the living room had been painful, but not knowing _why_ he was acting this way was most awful of all.

‘John, you’re trembling!’ Freddie remarked, sounding seriously worried about his friend. ‘Sit down, dear, and let us make you a cup of tea.’

‘No, thank you. I’ll just – I’d rather go to… to bed again,’ John stammered softly as he stood up again, trying not to glance back at Freddie as the older man seemed to observe him intently. He knew Freddie meant well, but he needed to be alone right now, alone with his misunderstanding and sadness and guilt about nothing in particular since he didn’t know what exactly he had done wrong.

‘John, don’t take it out on yourself. He’s the one being unreasonable,’ Roger said.

‘No, I’m not,’ John answered absent-mindedly, though he was sure all of the people present in the kitchen knew that he was, in fact, blaming himself. That was exactly why he swiftly moved out of the room before they could say anything more to him, making his way towards the room where it may have all started. He closed the door behind him and dispiritedly let himself fall backwards on the double bed that right now didn’t feel like the source of love and joy it usually was.

# # #

John could hear the seconds, minutes, and after a while even a full hour passing with every soft ‘tick’ of the clock on the opposite side of the wall, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up at the only slightly irritating device. He didn’t know what time it was and he didn’t care to know either – the only moment he was interested in, was the moment Brian would come home again, hopefully in a renewed mood so they could talk it all over. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding from both sides; maybe Brian was fed up with something else and chose to take it out on him, being the closest and easiest source of relief, John hoped dimply, though a small voice inside of him said that it was his fault one way or another. Brian never took his anger out on him, so when he did shout at him or this time even grabbed his arm painfully hard, John assumed it was because _he_ had done something wrong. The throbbing feeling in his upper arm had traded places with a soreness that was probably going to evolve into a string of bruises overnight, but he hardly minded the feeling – all he could think about was an explanation of Brian’s sudden mood change.

He had already repeated the morning all over in his head thrice, but he couldn’t recall anything that should have made Brian as angry as he had been. Tearing the duvets away from him was a common trick he used to force the other man out to get out of bed, and surely Brian had understood that the ‘two sugar cubes in my tea’ he then said to him had been for fun, and wasn’t meant to be an actual command. Of course, his partner wasn’t a morning person, but his mood usually cleared up the moment he got out of bed and left the bedroom behind, not to even mention that he was never this bad-tempered in the morning, even not when John woke him up with more insistence than either of them regarded desirable. So as none of this was likely to be the cause of Brian’s crankiness, the one question kept haunting John’s mind: _What could it have been?_

A small knock on the door interrupted John shortly from his moment of reflection, and though he knew Brian wouldn’t be back already, a touch of hope passed his stomach, only to disappoint him even more when it turned out to be just be of his band mates.

‘John? I made you tea,’ Freddie whispered as he walked into the dusky bedroom.

‘That’s kind of you,’ John mumbled, instantly feeling guilty about the unenthusiastic remark, since he really did think it was kind of Freddie to think about him. But in his moment of distraction that bordered on numbness, he couldn’t bring himself to add anything more uplifting, either.

‘I’ll just put in on the nightstand, alright?’ Freddie suggested when John stayed motionless, lot looking like he was going to sit up and take the cup of tea in his hands anywhere soon, and John nodded weakly to his question. ‘Darling, you should come over to the living room. You shouldn’t lock yourself out like this.’

‘I’m not locking myself out,’ John disagreed feebly, but he didn’t even manage to convince himself. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute, okay?’

‘Of course. Take your time,’ Freddie told him as he closed the door behind him, not knowing that John was going to seize this offer with both hands – he didn’t emerge from their bedroom all morning, preferring to be alone and think about what he was going to say to Brian once he would get home again in a hopefully better mood.

The silence in the apartment was eventually interrupted when the sound of a key being fumbled into the lock of the front door announced that Brian had returned, and John immediately propped himself up on his hands, listening carefully to the sounds. The door was being closed with less noise than the last time Brian had lad hands on it, which John hoped was a sign that his partner had calmed down again. It was all he had been wishing during the time of being alone in their bedroom – he hated for Brian be angry at him, especially when he wouldn’t tell him why, and his calm arrival seemed like a good sign to John. He had only been away for one and a half hour though, which, including the travelling time, certainly wasn’t very long for a family visit, John reckoned as he stood up from the bed, but he didn’t mind it either – he was glad that Brian was home again. The thought of Brian being somewhere out there in his awful mood hadn’t been a comforting thought at all, so whether he was still angry or (hopefully) feeling a little more human again, John was happy about his lover’s arrival. Praying that the intervening of his parents might have cleared Brian’s mood, John opened the door to the hallway.

‘Brian, there you are again!’ John tried to smile as much as his nerves allowed him to do at the moment while walking over to his boyfriend, who was just busy unzipping his coat. ‘How was it at your parent’s place?’ In an attempt not to show how much Brian’s behaviour earlier that day had affected him, John walked towards him with the idea of giving him a hug, since he was not yet ready to do more than that after having been treated rather unkindly that morning. He could not yet determine whether Brian was feeling better again, so it seemed safe to him to approach him carefully in order not to receive a repeat performance of being dragged around by his upper arm that had grown rather sore in the meantime.

Unfortunately for John, Brian wasn’t even ready for a plain embrace, because just as John was about to wrap his arms around him, Brian resolutely turned his back on him and threw his coat in the corner of the room, before simply distancing himself from John without even a word of explanation.

‘Brian?’ John asked quietly as he rested his arms next to his sides again. ‘Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?’

‘Because there’s nothing wrong,’ he said tersely.

‘Brian…’ John sighed, which Brian didn’t seem to appreciate.

‘There’s nothing wrong as long as you stop bothering me for once! Goddamnit, why aren’t you leaving me _alone_ for a change?’ Brian grumbled, involuntarily making John take a step back. Of course, he had noticed right after the denied embrace that Brian wasn’t behaving any kinder yet, but that he would immediately start scolding at him again was still a little shocking to John. Brian never behaved like this, so why would he do so now?

‘Lovely to have you back, Brian,’ Freddie piped up as he opened the door, purposefully blocking Brian’s way. ‘I think you’ve got some explaining to do.’

‘There is nothing to explain,’ Brian said. ‘Can you move aside and leave me alone now?’

‘God, someone didn’t have a good time at his parents’ house!’ Freddie snickered. ‘What happened? Did your mother burn the Sunday apple pie? Did your father bring up something stupid you did in elementary school?’ Another time, another place, John might have laughed about Freddie’s cleverness, but now, it only made him more nervous, knowing that Brian wasn’t in for jokes.

‘I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,’ Brian growled, simply bumping rather painfully into Freddie’s shoulder to clear the way, not even looking over his shoulder to see if he had actually hurt him, which he turned out to have, judging by the rather painful expression on his face.

‘Damnit, Brian! Calm down for a second, will you?’ Freddie shouted at him, but the both of them were sure he hadn’t heard him; they heard him exchange some angry sounding words with Roger in the living room, before a door – most likely the one that lead to the bedroom – was slammed shut.

‘Well,’ Freddie said, rubbing over his sore shoulder with his right hand, ‘Whatever happened at his parents’ place, it hasn’t exactly cleared his mood; it only seems to have made matters worse. Maybe you should be glad that you weren’t there,’ he tried to cheer John up. John nodded numbly at him, because he wasn’t in the mood for contradicting him, but he didn’t actually agreed with him. He knew Freddie meant well, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should’ve gone with Brian to prevent things from getting out of hand, like what seemed to be happening right now. John hated not knowing _why_ the visit to his parents had been infuriating Brian even more. In all those dozens of times John had been going with him, he hadn’t noticed anything offensive being said or something unreasonable being done, so he couldn’t think of any way that Brian’s parents could possibly have been fuelling their son’s anger. John still didn’t know the cause of Brian’s awful mood that morning, and him coming back from his parent’s house being even grumpier, was even more of a mystery to him, which was starting to get on his nerves more and more.

Before getting the time to actually worry again, Roger stormed into the hallway, and the both of them knew there could only be one reason for his hasty arrival. ‘John, for God’s sake, what’s _wrong_ with Brian today?!’

‘I don’t know, Rog. You’d be the first I’d tell if I knew,’ John sighed. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to listen to Roger’s animated reconstruction of what Brian had been saying to him, so he made his way to the living room, given that their bedroom was occupied by Brian. He slumped down on the couch and aimlessly tried to watch whatever cliché soap series was playing, but he couldn’t focus. He kept looking at the clock and hoping Brian would come out and calmly explain to all of them what had been bothering him, but naturally, the guitarist didn’t reappear. Freddie invited John over to the kitchen to have lunch, but he wasn’t hungry, and they figured that asking Brian would only result in being scolded at, so Freddie and Roger ended up eating alone while John flicked through an out-dated TV magazine and Brian did God-knows-what.

Hours and hours passed without a single sign of Brian, and by the time John opened his eyes and looked up at the clock, he saw that it was already almost seven o’clock. He rubbed his eyes and suddenly realised that he must have fallen asleep. Seeing that no one was in the living room, he rushed over to the kitchen, faintly hoping he would find the rest of the band there, but naturally, not only his own seat across from Roger was empty, but also that across from Freddie, which was usually Brian’s. Even though he knew he could have known this, it still stung a little. As far as he was concerned, Brian hadn’t left his room all day, and it was starting to worry him.  

‘Hey Deaky,’ Roger greeted him. ‘We haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘Yeah, uhm… I think I fell asleep,’ John mumbled, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck before sitting down at the table, looking at the empty plates stacked at one side of the table to create space for the card game his friends were playing.

‘Do you want some dinner? There’s still some rice in the pan,’ Freddie said, giving a nod towards the black pot standing on the stove. ‘You know us, we made something simple, since we’re not exactly good at cooking…’ The couple shared a chuckle, but they fell quiet when John gloomily shook his head and sat down at the table.

‘Has Brian been around here yet?’ John asked right away, and he could see Freddie and Roger share a look from the corners of his eyes.

‘He hasn’t been around here, no. But we’re getting worried about you, John. You haven’t eaten a thing all day and you’ve been worrying about Brian way too much.’

‘How could I not? He’s my partner, I get worried when he’s acting this way.’ John said.

‘We understand that. We just hate to see you being sad. Is there something we can do for you?’

‘Not really, unless you can magically make Brian talk to me again,’ John sighed, playing around with a forgotten spoon that was still lying in the middle of the table. He didn’t miss how Roger leant in to whisper something in Freddie’s ear, and how Freddie nodded enthusiastically, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at that moment; he had other concerns on his mind. This was why he looked up in surprise when Freddie suddenly spoke to him, as if he had forgotten about his surroundings in a matter of fifteen seconds.

‘John, dear, would you be so kind to bring the trash bag outside?’ Freddie asked, and John frowned.

‘I thought I just changed it the other day,’ he brought in, not missing the mildly nervous look Freddie and Roger exchanged.

‘Yeah, but it… smells bad, for some reason,’ Roger blurted out. ‘I think we should change it again.’

‘This instant?’ John asked.

‘If you would, please?’ Freddie said, and John nodded a little dazedly, confused by why they were in such a hurry, but at the same time fearing that rejecting their request would cause them to think that he was too absorbed in the whole situation with Brian again. He therefore stood up and walked over to the bin to take the almost empty bag out, before walking towards the door of the hallway.

‘And while you’re at it, can you maybe check if we have any mail, too?’ Roger added.

‘Mail? It’s Sunday, there’s never mail on Sunday,’ John pondered out loud, starting to find the tasks they were assigning him getting more and more dubious.

‘I forgot to check yesterday,’ Freddie said, fishing the keys of their mailbox out of his pocket and handing them to John. ‘Please just go take a look.’

John nodded before turning around and walking through the door of the hallway. The moment he closed the door behind him, he heard the chair legs of the kitchen floor scratching over the tiled floor, swift footsteps crossing the room he had just left, his friends speaking in hushed but unmistakably excited tones. He knew they were up to something, but he couldn’t bring himself to care; he simply walked out of the front door and sauntered off the iron stairs of the apartment building. He dropped the plastic bag in the nearest waste container, before walking back to the long row of mailboxes attached to the wall of the building. As expected, theirs was empty, so John, now seriously starting to wonder what his friends had in mind, wasted no time and made his way up the stairs again, only to realise, when he was standing in front of their apartment again, that he had forgotten to bring the key. With a sigh, he pressed the door bell and tried to patiently wait for one of his friends to open, but unfortunately, no one turned up at the door to free him from the cold October weather. John rang again and pressed his ear against the door to listen if he could hear someone coming his way, but all he heard was some vague, incoherent shouting from somewhere in their house, before the sound was suddenly cut off.

Suddenly, the door opened, and John had to work hard to not fall inside the hallway, which would have made it a bit too obvious that he had been bugging. Luckily for him, he managed to maintain his balance and was even able to look at Freddie with a straight face.

‘Sorry, dear, I forgot to give you the key,’ Freddie said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all; John could read in his expression, which he tried (but failed) to keep as straight as possible, that not handing him the keys had been part of whatever plan they had been executing while he had been away.

‘I thought I heard someone shout or something like that,’ John told him while stepping inside again, not wanting to let him notice that it had sounded rather concerning to him.

‘Shout? Maybe the neighbours?’ Freddie answered, and John had to oppress the tendency to roll his eyes – it was too obvious that Freddie was making up excuses when Freddie bit down his bottom lip to oppress his smile, then turned away so John couldn’t see his face. ‘Was there any mail?’ Freddie asked in an attempt to distract him.

‘No, there wasn’t any,’ John replied, following the frontman to the living room, where Freddie received a subtle nod from Roger, which was reciprocated by a quick thumbs-up.

‘Did I miss something while I was outside?’ John asked, eyes going from Freddie to Roger and back.

‘Perhaps,’ Freddie answered with a shrug that was accompanied by a meaningful glance, and Roger giggled a little. ‘Maybe you should check on Brian sometime, dear.’

‘Check on Brian?’ John swallowed painfully, wondering why they suddenly brought up this proposal. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll probably make him angry if I would go to him now.’

‘Frankly, I think he’ll only get angry at you if you don’t help him out very soon,’ Roger snickered.

‘Help him out? Out of what?’ John asked, not knowing what he was talking about, but soon understanding that it had something to do with the short amount of time he had been outside. ‘What have you two been doing?’ he asked his friends sternly, not exactly in the mood for riddles.

‘I could tell you, but I think it’s better for both your understanding and for Brian’s dignity that you just go to the bedroom and see it yourself as  soon as possible,’ Freddie winked, and John, though for a moment paralysed with worry and incomprehension, turned on his heel and paced out of the living room. He honestly had no idea what Freddie and Roger possibly could have done in such a short period of time, and maybe their choice of words had just been made to sound unclear yet dark to make sure John would go after his boyfriend, which in that case surely worked. Before John knew it, he found himself standing in front of their bedroom with one hand on the door knob and one knocking on the wooden surface, something he couldn’t have pictured himself doing an hour ago.

‘Brian?’ he called his boyfriend’s name after having knocked on the door, but he didn’t get a reply – not a spoken reply, that was. It sounded like something close to a hum, and John couldn’t quite make out if it was an irritated grumble, or that it was a sound to indicate that he could come in.

‘Brian, can I come in?’ John asked, but a reply held off this time. When he tried again and his question wasn’t reciprocated, his worry overpowered whatever was left of the fear of Brian’s reaction on him suddenly coming in, so he simply announced that he was coming in and pushed the door open with trembling fingers and his heart pounding against his ribcage.

John didn’t know what he had expected to find in their room, but he was sure that whatever scenarios he possibly could have thought of, would not even have been _close_ in terms of surprising him as what he walked into the moment he opened the door to the bedroom. On the floor in the corner of the room was a pile of worn clothes and used towels that they usually threw onto the old-fashioned wooden chair, and he soon found out why there was no longer space for laundry there. The clothes had traded paces with Brian, but John soon found that he wasn’t voluntarily sitting in that unusual spot – more than a few ties, belts, and scarfs around his wrists, arms, knees, ankles, and whatever other places he normally could move, were restricting him to the chair, not allowing him to even move an inch. John could also immediately find the reason why he hadn’t been answered properly; either Freddie or Roger, or maybe both, had tied off his mouth with a long-forgotten striped tie John remembered having worn to a job interview years and years ago.

John blinked a few times at his partner, who did the same at him, before John burst out in helpless laughter. To see Brian, who earlier that day had been shouting at him dragging him around the room,  now be unable to do as much as speak a word, was such a change of roles that John couldn’t help giggling like a schoolgirl at the sight of it. Imagining how Freddie and Roger must have grabbed Brian, one pressing him down on the chair while the other tied him up, made John lose all last traces of composure, doubling over in laughter by now. Brian faced away from him, angry and ashamed and utterly displeased with the turnout of the situation.

‘Darling, I’m sorry, but you should see yourself!’ John hiccupped in between giggles, letting his body fall down on the crappily made double bed behind him. ‘God, that I would ever get to see you like this! Is my camera somewhere near?’ he pondered out loud, which caused Brian to furiously look at him, and John was sure that if looks could kill, he would not have been part of the human population of planet earth any longer. The guitarist hummed something that was probably supposed to be either indignant, furious, or insulting – or a combination of those three factors; let’s just say that John was glad that the tie around his mouth was restricting his speech, so that he didn’t actually have to hear what Brian had to say about him.

‘I’m just joking, babe,’ John snickered and stood up, giving Brian’s messy curls a pat, but Brian quickly lulled his head away, not exactly in the mood to be touched. Unfortunately for him, this didn’t stop John, who, after a day of being treated like garbage by him, wasn’t letting this chance of sweet, sweet vengeance slip by. ‘You’re pretty cute when you’re angry and _not_ able to hit me, for a change,’ John remarked, teasingly pinching Brian’s cheek, something he knew Brian couldn’t stand. Brian pulled away from his hand with a more then displeased growl, and John knew that it was about time to cut the nonsense and get the cards on the table, as he had been wanting all day long.

‘Okay, that was enough teasing for now. Shall we sit down now and settle this like adults?’ John proposed, and Brian mumbled something incomprehensible yet very indignant-sounding, which did not exactly scared John away now that he knew he was in charge of him. ‘Listen, I won’t take that tie off your mouth, or remove anything at all in general, before you agree that you’ll behave.’ Brian rolled his eyes in response, not seeming to be willing to cooperate yet. This did worry John, but he was unwilling to show it, and tried to play it as cool as possible, hoping that this approach would make Brian come around.

‘Fine,’ John said, as he sat back on the bed behind him, pulling a random book out of the drawer of his nightstand. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to talk decently. I’ve got all day,’ he said, his voice sounding more stable than he could have wished for. He was still nervous about what Brian was going to say or do to him, but he reminded himself that Brian couldn’t do anything in his tied-up position. The guitarist himself seemed to be aware of this also, for he sighed in reply and flashed his boyfriend a pleading look, wordlessly asking to be released of his rather embarrassing position.

‘Yes? Can I safely untie you?’ John asked slightly mockingly to hide his own insecurity towards Brian’s unpredictable behaviour, and Brian nodded, sighing in relief when John started off by undoing the tie around his mouth with slightly trembling hands.

‘Thanks,’ Brian sighed, but given that this was the first kind word John had heard Brian speak since the beginning of that day, he remained very cautious.

‘One wrong word and this thing will be back in place again,’ John warned him, before sitting down on the bed again, still holding onto the tie he had removed only seconds before. He took a deep breath before finally asking the question he had been wanting to ask all day long. ‘So, now, what’s been bothering you lately? I can tell that there’s been something wrong for quite a while.’

‘What makes you think so?’ Brian said, as if he had no idea what John was talking about.

‘Because I’ve known you for some time. You’ve never been like this before, but I’ve known you for long enough to know that you build up your anger and frustration until you eventually can’t take it anymore, and then you just kind of explode. Am I right?’ John asked.

‘Possibly,’ Brian gritted out, which was all John needed to hear to know he was right.

‘So tell me, what happened? What  did I, or Freddie, or Roger, your family, friends, neighbours for all I care, do wrong?’ John asked.

‘No one did anything wrong. Not on purpose,’ he said begrudging, which caught John’s attention.

‘Did we upset you by accident? You can tell us if we did, you know that,’ the bassist insisted.

‘You wouldn’t understand- You know what? Nobody did something wrong in general. It’s just me. I’m just being ridiculous,’ Brian said bitterly. Though John was relieved to hear that Brian acknowledged that he was being ridiculous, he felt like Brian was just taking the blame because he didn’t want to talk about it, which was not what John wanted to achieve by having this conversation.

‘I’m sure you’re not being ridiculous, Bri. You’re a very reasonable person,’ John said, deciding to momentarily forget about his partner’s recent behaviour. ‘You can tell me what’s been on your mind lately. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll understand.’

‘Let’s just forget about it. Can you untie me?’ Brian asked impatiently.

‘Not before you tell me what’s wrong,’ John replied, taking his boyfriend’s example in terms of persistence.

‘Now _you’re_ the one being ridiculous,’ Brian growled, which John decided to ignore.

‘If you tell me, we might be able to do something about it,’ John tried.

‘You can’t do something about this, Deaky, apart from letting me go and not bringing this up again, thank you very much.’ Brian’s voice was turning sarcastic by now, and John started to lose the hope he had been feeling the moment he had walked into the room to find that Brian was completely at his fingertips, even though he knew now that he should have realised right away that Brian never really had been under his thumb.

‘I just want to help you, Brian,’ John disclosed quietly, hoping this more vulnerable approach might have an effect on him, which it unfortunately didn’t.

‘If you want to help me so badly, maybe you could untie me,’ Brian answered tersely.

‘Why are you being like this? Just tell me what I did wrong,’ John insisted, hearing his voice turn a little whiny again. He could sense Brian could hear it, too, for the guitarist sighed loudly, and John knew he was going to get scolded at again.

‘God, John, I _told_ you you didn’t do anything-’ he said, before he suddenly interrupted himself, much to John’s surprise. ‘Fine, if you need to know it this badly… I’ve been having some kind of row with my parents lately,’ he eventually growled.

‘Really? About what?’ John said, feeling a wave of relief flowing through his veins now that he finally seemed to be onto something, not to even mention how comforting it was to hear that it wasn’t his fault. Unfortunately, this feeling didn’t last for long when Brian answered him after a short silence.

‘About… about you,’ Brian disclosed softly, not looking at John while the bassist stared at him in fear and disbelief. Just when John thought he hadn’t done anything wrong, it turned out that he had been the source of rows and arguments between his partner and whose parents for God knew how long, considering Brian’s talent to keep things private for an unbelievable long time.

‘A-bout me?’ he squeaked insecurely, his mind spinning to recall all recent situation in which he could have done anything that might be a reason for Brian and his parents to bicker about.

‘No, not the way you might think. It’s not that they don’t approve of me being in a relationship with you or something… Quite the opposite, actually,’ Brian mumbled.

‘The opposite?’ John asked, not understanding what that was supposed to mean.

‘Because they… don’t seem to care about me anymore since I’m with you. They’re all about you and they’ve just completely forgotten about me.’

‘All about me? Since when are they all about me instead of you?’ John asked, still utterly confused.

‘John, really, haven’t you noticed?’ Brian asked in disbelief, and John awkwardly shook his head, making Brian roll his eyes. ‘Do I need to sum it up for you? My parents adore you. You finished your school, for example – my father is still angry that I dropped astrophysics and that I don’t have a fall-back like you do in case the band doesn’t work out. He never liked this whole band business in the first place…’ Brian sighed. ‘My father still thinks I’m crazy for tossing my academic career aside to form a band. He constantly asks me when I will go back to university to finish my degree and reminds me of what a stupid decision it was to choose music over astrophysics. And when I tell him that I can make my own decisions, I’m being rude,’ Brian said, and John nodded at him a little dazedly. Though he had never experienced it as strongly as Brian probably had, he could certainly recall more than just a few moments in which his parents had indeed expressed feelings of doubt and disapproval about their son’s professional life. It were usual subtle comments, short sentences being dropped in the middle of the conversation, things like _‘it’s such a shame you didn’t finish astrophysics, you were so close to getting your PhD’_ and _‘the new semester is almost going to start, have you already signed in for the last year of astrophysics?’_

John had never really been thinking about it, but looking back, he could understand why Brian felt pressured by his parents to go back to school. The thing he didn’t understand, was why this made Brian think his parents favoured him over their own son.

‘I think I know what you mean,’ John said. ‘But Brian, they’re your _parents_. They want the best for you, and they’re convinced that a university degree is better than performing in a band. They don’t mean to drag you down, they’re just from a generation that favours a steady job over producing an album every once in a while.’

‘They do mean to drag me down, or at least my career. You have no idea how much they nag about my ‘poor life choices’ when you’re not around. They keep telling me how stupid it was not to finish my degree, and how smart it was of you to get a degree in electronics, because there’s so much work that field,’ Brian said overly excited, imitating the voice of his father. ‘You’re so much more rational than I am, I should take your example, blah blah blah… It’s fucking nauseating to listen to,’ Brian spat out, his loud voice involuntarily making John back away from him a little. He had never gotten used to those rare times Brian raised his voice, and today certainly wasn’t going to be the day he would.

‘Okay, so they don’t agree with your career choices,’ John summed up Brian’s monologue. ‘But that doesn’t mean at all they like me better than you. Of course they don’t like me better than you-’ John said, but Brian wasn’t having any of it.

‘They do! They can’t stand me for not wanting to have them buzzing around me all day long. Since the day I moved out, they’ve accused me of being rude and distant and ungrateful to them. They’ve been telling me so often that they wished I was different…’ Brian said, his voice trailing down by now, which indicated that he was about to say something serious, something that was most likely to be pretty emotional. ‘And well, then there was _you_ , the perfectly decent and polite son-in-law who’s always in for a chat, or to come over for tea, to help them when their washing machine or TV breaks down or whatever. I just…’ Brian paused for a second, before he now calmly said what he had been going on about for some time, ‘I just feel like they like you so much better than me…’

‘Baby, of course not! You’re their son, they love you endlessly,’ John promised furiously.

‘I can’t see it. All I can see is that they like you so much more. Whenever my mother telephones me, it’s always about you. How you are doing and what’s keeping you busy, and when we’re gonna come over because they want to see us – and with ‘us’ they mean ‘you,’ Brian answered.

‘No, Brian, of course not. Your parents love you and want to see you, and they’ve accepted that I’m practically part of you as your boyfriend, that’s all,’ John said.

‘John, please,’ Brian rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t try to make me feel better by saying something like that. You’re not blind - you know you are so much more to them.’

‘Well, their son-in-law, then,’ John corrected himself.

‘Come on, Deaky. You can see how my mother is always all about you, and so is my dad. When we go over their house, they always greet you first, take your coat, drag you to the living room, give you tea and biscuits and ask you how you’re doing, before they even notice me being there as well!’

 _Someone sounds jealous!_ John thought dimly, but he managed to oppress the small smile that threatened to form on his lips. Still, knowing his boyfriend, who had been raised as an only child and who never seemed to have gotten used to sharing attention both at home and within his relationships like John himself had, it did seem like a likely scenario and an understandable reaction for Brian to be jealous at him, so he decided to give it a try.

‘Brian, are you… jealous?’ John asked carefully, then regretted it when this question seemed to trigger something deep inside of his partner.

‘Yes! I think I’m jealous, indeed! Because my parents prefer someone who isn’t even family over their one and only son!’ Brian was practically shouting, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

John was shocked to see that the whole situation seemed to touch his boyfriend deeply enough to make him tear up, whether he was right or not about his suspicion. ‘Brian… Please, don’t tell me you actually feel like that,’ John asked, genuinely feeling sorry for him that he seemed to be feeling like his parents preferred his boyfriend over him.

‘I do, because it’s the way it is! How would you feel if the people who brought you into this world and raised you and took care of you for your whole life suddenly start averting all their attention to someone they’ve only known for barely a year? How would you feel if your mother gave all her attention to me and took you for granted?’ Brian asked, tears of anger and helplessness streaming down his face by now. He could not wipe the tears away, since his hands were still tied off to the chair, which was why John leant in to do this for him. When Brian didn’t pull away, John knew he was approachable again, and that he didn’t have to be afraid of him bursting out in anger towards him.

‘I’m so sorry, Brian. I never meant to take away the attention your parents were supposed to give you instead,’ John whispered.

‘But it still happened. Whenever they see you, you’ve already brightened up their whole day, a-and when they see me… I see nothing but disappointment in their eyes,’ Brian choked out tearfully.

‘Oh, sweetheart… Please, believe me, your parents aren’t disappointed in you at all!’ the bassist told him insistently, throwing his arms a little awkwardly around Brian’s still tied-up body. It was probably about time to free him from his position, but even more than that, he needed a shoulder to cry on.

‘They are,’ Brian sobbed against his shoulder, ‘because you are so much better than I am in every aspect. It’s no miracle t-that they prefer you over me. You are what they are looking for in a son. You’re smart, kind, compassionate, always willing to help, or to simply come over and talk to them. You are everything they ever wished for… everything I fail to be.’

To hear Brian say that he thought he was failing in his parents’ eyes, was what eventually broke John’s heart. He couldn’t stand the idea of his precious boyfriend believing his parents were disappointed in him, not to even mention that he thought they preferred someone else over him.  ‘Brian, listen to me,’ John said as he carefully grasped his lover’s face between his hands, looking into his teary eyes. ‘You are not failing at anything. Your parents might not always agree with you, but neither does my mother with me, nor does any parent with its child all the time. Your parents love you just the way you are, and I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to change for the world.’ John knelt down to undo whatever belts and ties were restricting his partner to the chair, meanwhile starting to understand more and more why Brian had gotten the impression that his parent’s didn’t approve of him, and starting to feel increasingly guilty about this.

‘It’s my fault that you feel like your parents like me better. I shouldn’t have been so clingy to them,’ John suddenly blurted out, making Brian look up at him. ‘It’s just that… It seems that when my father died, I kind of lost my mother at the same time, because… She wasn’t the same after he was gone,’ John said calmly, but he was sure Brian could see that his hands were trembling when he undid the last straps that held him prisoned in the chair. Without meeting Brian’s eyes, John sat back on the bed again, clasped hands resting in his lap while trying to resume his story. ‘She was distant and emotionally detached and sometimes just inapproachable for days. I know I can’t blame her, because she was devastated after my father’s death, but so were Julie and me. We needed her, but she… she locked herself away from us,’ John confided, swallowing painfully.

‘Oh, John…’ Brian whispered, standing up and sitting down next to him, putting an arm around him and pulling his boyfriend closer to his chest.

‘I’ve always missed that feeling of having a loving family. And then you came along, with your parents… they welcomed me with open arms, and I felt so happy and wanted that I didn’t even see that it was hurting you. Please, believe me, I never meant to take away from you,’ John whispered sincerely, tears starting to flow down his own face as well by now. He felt Brian tightening his grip around his body to hold him closer, so he buried his face in his chest and simply let himself go, sobbing his heart out while Brian repeatedly stroked his lower back. All the frustration, fear, misunderstanding, and uncertainty he had been feeling that day were starting to assault him all at once, and he simply couldn’t conceal his emotions any longer. But just as he wanted to apologise for not being able to oppress his tears, and with that, taking Brian’s stage, it turned out that Brian had a few things he wanted to apologise for, too.

‘John… I’m so, so sorry,’ Brian wept, guilt and regret audible in his voice. ‘I didn’t know that you felt like that. I didn’t know about your mother… and you and your sister… I’m so sorry, I never should have called you out on this.’

‘It’s okay,’ John whispered. ‘You couldn’t know this, I never told you.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Brian asked, pulling John so close to his body that he practically ended up sitting in his lap.

‘I didn’t want to bother you with sad stories, or go around saying bad things about my family. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you this at all, we were not talking about me in the first place,’ he realised guiltily, but Brian wasn’t having any of it.

‘John, you could never bother me, especially not with things that matter to you or that worry you.’

‘I know,’ John agreed; despite everything that had been going on that day, he knew that this had been the one and only exception of the fact that he could always tell Brian everything. ‘I just… I was trying to forget about it all, and when you and your parents offered me the opportunity of a loving family and leave the past behind… I grasped it with both hands. Now I see that I shouldn’t have been so selfish,’ John whispered ashamedly.

‘No, Deaky. You aren’t the one that’s being selfish, _I_ am,’ Brian said, pulling John tighter against his body. ‘And I’m very sorry for it, John. It’s not that I begrudge you being adored by my parents and having such a good relationship with them, but I just… I want my parents to love me, too,’ Brian added insecurely.

‘And they do!’ John assured him, wiping away his tears. ‘Brian, believe me, they love you so much. You should hear how your mother speaks of you when I’m alone with her. She won’t shut up about you, in the positive sense of the word.’

‘Really?’ Brian asked surprisedly.

‘Darling, did you seriously think she wouldn’t? You’re her only son, you’re her pride and joy,’ John reassured him. ‘She keeps telling me how proud she is of you for following your heart and doing what you want to do, while at the same time, she’s very worried about you. She knows the music business is a tough world, and she wants to protect you from getting hurt. Doesn’t every parent?’

‘That’s… I never really thought about it that way,’ the guitarist admitted. ‘I just thought she was clingy and unsupportive, and that she didn’t trust me to make my own decisions.’

‘She wants you to be happy doing whatever you do, Brian, and so does your father. And so do I, of course,’  John said, the last part of which earned him a kiss on his cheek.

‘I’m sorry for behaving the way I did today, baby. My parents were right; I’m not thankful enough towards the people around you. But please know that I really, really appreciate you,’ Brian told John, nuzzling at his long, brown hair.

‘I think you know _exactly_ how can show me some appreciation,’ John said mischievously, and though he couldn’t see Brian’s face, he could instinctively picture how his partner would roll his eyes after hearing this rather suggestive comment. What he had _not_ foreseen, was that Brian would wrap his arms tightly around his torso and let his body fall back on the mattress behind them, pulling John along with him.

‘Brian! Let me go!’ John cried out, even though he knew Brian would be gentle with him now.

‘Oh, you wish!’ Brian grinned, pinning John’s hands down above his head and rolling around until he was on top of his boyfriend, John’s body helpless beneath him. ‘I wonder if my mother would still approve of you and tell me she wants me to behave like you do if she knew what you’re like in the bedroom, because honestly, this is the most decent opening line I’ve heard you speak in literal _weeks_ ,’ Brian teased him, smiling softly when a blush crept up John’s cheeks. ‘Just kidding, dear. Of course I will show you some appreciation for keeping up with an idiot like me,’ Brian whispered, before pressing his lips against John’s, a gesture the bassist gladly accepted and reciprocated. He was so happy they had managed to talk about what had been bothering them, and that they could hopefully move forward from this point.

Just when John felt the kiss growing deeper, Brian’s tongue flicking over his lips to indicate that he was ready to take their kiss to the next level, they were suddenly interrupted by the opening of the door and the meaningful whistling of their frontman.

‘Oh, would you look at that! We should have tied you up way earlier, Brian,’ Freddie grinned. Both Brian and John looked up in shock when they heard the unexpected voice of Freddie, who, together with their drummer, was standing in the doorway, a self-satisfied grin plastered across their faces at the sight of their best friends on top of each other.

A moment of silence filled the room, before Brian came up with an answer. ‘Maybe you should have. We all know how much I adore being tied up, don’t we, Deaky?’ Brian snickered, and now it was John’s time to roll his eyes.

‘I thought I was supposed to make the inappropriate comments,’ John mumbled, which earned him a kiss on his cheek.

‘Alright, lovebirds, I’m glad you’ve seemed to have worked this out, but we’re not here to watch you make love to each other,’ Freddie said, and Brian winked at John before rolling off his body and sitting upright to listen to whatever Freddie had come to tell them. ‘Your mother on the telephone, Brian. You left your coat at your parents’ house and she asks if you want to come pick it up or if your father should drop it off here on his way to work tomorrow.’

‘Tell her I’m on my way,’ Brian said, before turning to John, who looked at him hopefully. ‘Tell her _we’re_ on our way, I mean,’ he corrected himself, reaching a hand out towards John to help him stand op from the bed.

‘Thank you, Bri,’ John whispered to him, pulling him closer and throwing his arms around his torso.

‘I wouldn’t be so quick if I were you. I’m definitely going to tell my mother about that highly inappropriate comment you just made, young man,’ Brian answered quasi-sternly, making John giggle for a bit, before the bassist stretched on his tiptoes to peck his partner’s cheek.

‘Oh, shut it, or I’ll tell her about your love for getting tied up in the bedroom,’ John teased.

‘It wasn’t my idea to get tied to a chair!’ Brian cried out, but the came up with a better idea than blackmailing each other in front of his parents. 'Let’s not say anything about either of those things, if we still want a slice of the apple pie she baked,’ Brian proposed.

‘Deal,’ John agreed while pressing one last kiss on Brian’s cheek, before they followed their friends out of their bedroom and getting ready for their weekly visit to Brian’s parents, this time in a much better mood than how they both had been earlier that day.


End file.
